She was making it to Tabara Lodge on time if it killed her.
THE FOOD AT the lodge was better than fantastic and the atmosphere was incredible. Nothing came between them and the outdoors except canvas curtains that Dax was told were only drawn in bad weather. Natural wood covered the ceiling and walls and African art adorned the place. The restaurant opened onto a breezeway that overlooked grasslands dappled with acacia trees and boulders. The view from their table was breathtaking. Dax had been too rushed earlier to really appreciate it. He set his napkin down and looked at the barely touched dishes in front of Ivy and Fern. They’d eaten the chapati flat bread, but the stew hadn’t been much more than picked at.
“You have to at least try it.”
“I can’t identify all the ingredients,” Fern said.
“The waiter told you how it’s made. Three times.”
“Smells...different.” Ivy crinkled her nose.
“It’s called spices and the stew is delicious, so if you don’t want it, I’ll eat it.” He reached over for their plates, hoping they’d stop him. They didn’t. Fine. Their choice.
Living outside of the United States was going to be good for them. They obviously needed to learn to try new things. Houston was full of great, authentic, hole-in-the-wall restaurants, but come to think of it, he couldn’t recall taking them to any. When he ate out, it was usually with a colleague at lunch. He added their stew to his empty bowl and took a bite. “You can’t live on bread forever. If you’re hungry enough, you’ll eat.”
“Yes, we know. There are starving children in Africa.”
“You’re in Africa.”
“We know that, too.”
“Have it your way,” Dax said, spooning more food into his mouth. Man, the spinach, potatoes and lamb were good.
“I’m a vegetarian,” Ivy said. Fern stilled for a fraction of a second, then pursed her lips and nodded in agreement. Dax set his spoon down and rested his elbows on the table.
“A vegetarian. You, too, Fern? Or did you become one a second ago?”
“We’re definitely vegetarians,” Fern said.
“You both begged me for hamburgers before our flight here. I recall you eating every last bite, too.”
There was no comment. Dax sighed. As if they weren’t picky eaters already.
“You do know that even vegetarians don’t live on bread? That you’ll have to eat more vegetables and beans?” They hated beans, unless they were baked beans that came out of a can and were loaded with sugar. Neither twin made a comment. Stubborn times two. “Okay, then. We can order you vegetarian meals. They had plenty of options that weren’t on the dessert menu.” He gave them a knowing look. No doubt they were hoping he’d give up on real food and let them order anything they wanted, so long as they didn’t starve.
“We’re not really hungry anyway,” Ivy said. Fern shot her a frown.
“I am,” Dax said. “So you’ll have to sit and wait while I finish this delicious, savory dish.” He took another bite. “Man, this hits the spot. Really good.”
Ivy and Fern rolled their eyes and pulled out their e-readers. Their grandmother had bought the gadgets for them last Christmas and got them both international charging kits for this trip. He didn’t condone reading during a meal, but right now, if it kept them busy and cut the smart-mouthing he had to listen to so that he could actually enjoy his food, he’d let it slide. Besides, between virtual schooling, e-readers and the occasional movie or game, any pediatric recommendations on limiting screen time were null, void and completely archaic. It had taken him a while, after becoming a single father, to finally figure that out. Nutrition, however, wasn’t. Sooner or later, they’d need to eat something. He hated it when they challenged him like this. It was as if they were in a staring contest, waiting to see who’d give in and blink first.
A laugh broke through the monotonous buzz of lounge conversations and clinking of flatware. That laugh. He recognized it immediately and glanced toward the lodge foyer. The wild-haired lady with the six kids, who were all trailing after her again. A person had to have patience to be happy with that many kids to keep in line. He shoved another bite in his mouth and raised a brow. Maybe it wasn’t a blissful laugh. Maybe it was a delirious, I’m-going-to-lose-my-mind-someone-give-me-a-kid-break-or-bottle-of-Prozac laugh. He couldn’t help but glance back in her direction. Something about her was hard to ignore.
She pushed her hair to the side after giving the youngest kid a hug. She had a clean, natural look about her. Down-to-earth, like Sandy had been. She didn’t seem old enough to have six kids, though. Midtwenties maybe? A couple hurried over to her and began apologizing for being late. Something about the massage they’d been getting. It hit him. Those weren’t her kids. Those weren’t her—he grabbed his napkin and wiped his mouth, then signaled over to the nearest waiter.
“Ivy, Fern, stay here a minute. Don’t go anywhere.”
The older fellow approached and started to refill his drink. Dax waved his hand to decline.
“No, thank you. But would you mind standing here just for a few minutes? If you could just watch over my daughters a moment—” he glanced at the man’s name tag “—Alim. I’d really appreciate it. And I won’t be long.” He didn’t dare trust the twins alone again. At least not today.
Alim looked a little nervous when Ivy and Fern smiled at him. He raised a brow.
“Sir, I don’t watch children. I have other tables to wait on.”
“I’ll tip you extra. Just give me five minutes.”
Alim hesitated, rubbed a hand over his short, salt-and-pepper hair, then nodded.
Dax narrowed his eyes at the twins.
“Stay put. Read the menu and find yourselves something to eat.” That would occupy them. Maybe. Alim grimaced and gave the girls a stern look. Clearly, kids weren’t his thing, but Dax didn’t have time to worry about the poor guy. He needed to catch Miss Curly Q. He ran out to the foyer, but there was no sign of her. The reception desk. Yes. It was near the wide-open archway that served as the lodge’s entrance. She couldn’t have left without their noting it. He reached the desk in two strides.
“Excuse me. That lady who was just in here. Reddish-brown, curly hair? Does she work here? I noticed she was watching a group of kids, and I’m hoping to hire a baby—a child sitter.”
“No, sir.” The concierge straightened his uniform and cocked his head politely. “She’s not a Tabara employee. She has an arrangement with us to offer the occasional nature hike and mini safari to the young children who visit. It’s part of a package we offer to parents who wish to take advantage of our spa.”
Dax drummed his fingers on the sleek wood counter. He needed to think. Occasional wasn’t going to cut it. He had to catch her before she left.
“Thank you.” He ran outside
